Persecution of those who follow Christ is older than the Roman 
Catholic Church itself. History is replete with the great trials and 
tribulations of the faithful but, fortunately or not, those trials are 
all far removed from us here in twenty-first century America.
Joyce Coronel’s first novel, “A Martyr’s Crown,” reminds
 us, however, that true persecution is no further away than those among 
us who have traveled from the Middle East in the hope of escaping 
violent persecution at the hands of Muslim fanatics and even some 
governments in the region.
Coronel’s book is the story of two families — one Chaldean Catholic 
from Mosul, Iraq, and the other Roman Catholic from Phoenix. Aside from 
the faith, the two families share a common bond — the loss of a child.
For us here in America, the story reveals a burdensome dose of 
reality. The events, while largely fictitious, prey upon the 
unsuspecting reader, claw at the rose-colored glasses we all wear. They 
demand from us the attention that our mild, peaceful, religiously-free 
lives often ignore. As we follow the tragedy of the young Iraqi family 
literally fleeing bullets and death, Coronel reminds us that the “blood”
 of the cross is what manifests the symbol of our salvation.
Centuries have separated us from the true knowledge of our own 
American tribulation, allowing us to forget that the religious liberty 
we enjoy was also born by the blood of countless people who have gone 
before us and have left their memories in the red stripes of Old Glory.
Based upon actual events and the experiences wrought by two years of 
interviews of Chaldean Catholics in the Valley, Coronel shows us the 
bigger picture, the tenuous nature of our own religious liberty, and the
 steadfast nature of the human spirit given an eternal promise by God.
I’d like to call the book sweet, refreshing, a bit melodramatic, and 
even agonizingly triumphant, but I cannot. Circumstances move people to 
action when they face threats, when family members are killed, or when 
their clergy are tortured and exterminated simply for following Christ. 
For us in the United States, this book is a wake up call. It’s time for 
us to put on the armor of God and prepare for battle.
The narrator of the book, a journalist for a local newspaper, is 
moved by the plight of Chaldean Catholic refugees who come to Arizona. 
She writes a story on a local Chaldean Catholic parish. She enlists the 
interest of an Iranian-American friend who relates to their plight, 
having converted from Islam to Catholicism and, in doing so, lives under
 the threat of death within the context of Sharia law.
For us here in the United States, changing horses in the middle of 
the stream, as they say, is part of our religious liberty, but 
elsewhere, religion is life or death.
Our own religious persecution has begun, and we have access to the 
faith expressed by the Chaldean Catholics in the story who left 
difficult circumstances with virtually nothing and journeyed to this 
country, as all our own ancestors did before us. While we do not yet 
face bullets for our religious beliefs, we come from a long line of 
folks destined to wear the martyr’s crown.
As we see nativity scenes removed from the public square, prayer 
removed from schools, the fallacious separation of church and state used
 as a tool of secular religious tyranny, we find ourselves soothed by 
the wisdom expressed by Fr. George, the pastor of the Chaldean Church, 
who was kidnapped, tortured by fanatics, and left barely alive before 
being sent to the United States.
As a person, Fr. George battles with forgiving his tormenters, 
knowing that the judgment upon them is best left to God. Our narrator, 
who struggles with forgiveness in the death of her own child, is slowly 
transformed by the Father’s wisdom and the words of our Lord in 
Scripture.
Coronel’s book is well-written. Its characters and natural flow keep 
readers engaged to its unresolved ending. Such endings reflect our 
circumstances, our wants and needs, our troubles and triumphs, which 
ultimately reconcile themselves completely only when we are called home.
“A Martyr’s Crown” is just such a book of life, and a powerful one at that.